Moon Pie Shenanigans
by REwriter22
Summary: Dallas pie lover, Scott Gold finds himself at a dead end in his life. He meets a young Psychologist named Roland Burns who is well-versed in dual souls in one being. Through familiar means, Scott takes his first step in ridding his pie addiction for good... just not the way anyone would expect.
1. Chapter 1: A Pie Half Eaten

Excerpt 1: A Pie Half Eaten

Beep… beep… beep… beep, one piece of enticing sustenance after another, Dallas born man Scott Gold stood before a middle-aged cashier at the local Shoprite as she blissfully, and after a short time annoyingly, scanned a pie and sent it across the conveyor belt. From Table Talks to regular sized pies of varying flavors, the rest of the world felt like a blur to Scott. However, and strangely enough, it wasn't pie this time that arrested his attention. He couldn't explain it; wasn't able to with the newly impatient cashier yammering at his full-bearded face.

Cashier: Sir… SIR! *snaps her fingers*

Scott: *shakes his head and looks up* Uh, yeah?

Cashier: Shoprite Members card?

Scott: *takes out his wallet and looks through it* I forgot it. I always bring my cards whenever I buy food.

Cashier: Especially for ten tins full of blueberry and pumpkin pie, right?

Scott: It's… for a special occasion.

Cashier: If you say so, buddy, $44.57.

As soon as Scott took out the required amount to pay, the world around him slipped back into focus. Was it a momentary lapse before he thought? He wasn't the type to get lost in the moment, save for an engaging video game or a chat with a friend. After paying for the pies and about to leave with the cart in tow, Scott was greeted with some nosy sentiment.

Cashier: Word of advice, Scott? *Turns around and looks at her* You seem like a decent fellow. Don't eat those pies all at once, ya hear?

Scott was a simple individual. He sees pumpkin pie he'd eat it like there was no tomorrow with zero regrets. He buys a video game he plays it to its completion and moves on to the next one. He sees a goal at his job he sees it done to the absolute best of his ability while the piss is being taken out of him by his boss. That was the way of the world for most people, his world included. As he got home and unloaded the Lord's tastiest creation, he pulled out a big spoon and went to work on his favorite pie of the bunch: pumpkin. Eating like a King at his small, circular roundtable, one quick glance to his right laid documents carrying dreadful information. That one glance took him back to a Physical he did at his local Doctor's office. All he could remember however was the same conversation time and again. "You need to lose weight," "Your cholesterol levels are through the roof," "Is there some pie competition I don't know about, Mr. Gold?" He remembered his last consultation with his Doctor like it was yesterday plus two weeks ago.

Doctor Calvano: How're you doing these days, Mr. Gold?

Scott: Eh, you know, can't complain. Got my usual test results back?

Doctor Calvano: Why do you do that?

Scott: … Why do I do what?

Doctor Calvano: *sighs* There's somethin' I need to ask you, and I need you to think very hard before answering.

Scott: O… K…?

Doctor Calvano: Do you have a death wish?

Scott: Not really, life's been great actually. I'm in the process of applying for another job and hopefully I can upgrade my car to one with air bags. *Calvano looks at him with concern* Doc, I know what you're gonna say. My eating habits have been on the extreme side recently, but you're familiar with my metabolism. It burns twice the amount of food I eat and I have a special laxative to flush out the rest. I got my bases covered.

Doctor Calvano: Well, if you had your bases covered we wouldn't be having this conversation. These are the results of your last physical. Scott, your metabolism is on the brink of shutting down. It's been working overtime to burn the absurd amount of calories you ingest on a daily basis. With your heart working overtime to pump blood and the clogged arteries, I hate to tell you this, but your life is on the precipice right now. All it takes is one more pie, or a whole rack of ribs, and *snaps his fingers* no more you.

Scott: Holy moly is that… *tries to hold back a few tears* what are my options?

Doctor Calvano: Give up pie for starters. Scott, I've worked with you on your case for the past eight years. I know your family, practically know how you think.

Scott: All due respect, how I think changes by the day. So, you don't know my mentality.

Doctor Calvano: But I do know your fate if you keep going down this road. So all due respect, I ask you again do 'you' have a death wish?

On one of the documents, it gave a medical representation of Scott's evolution: from exercise patterns, mental state, to the dreadful eating habits; they all arrived to one sad end. It was the easiest way out of an already judgmental society, but the hardest to drop on anyone closest to them. Scott found himself with pumpkin smeared on his beard looking at a half-eaten pie, and that was when the switch came on to remind him that maybe Calvano had a point. Did he want to die, or was he completely bored with what life dealt him, and wanted a new viewpoint to give him a reason to go on living? He put the spoon down and sat back in his lived in couch and took a moment of silent reflection. Add a somewhat sharp pain cruising along his lower abdomen after a half-eaten pie, maybe it was time for some changes in his eating habits.

He ran to the bathroom with the last of his laxative in hand, and flushed the dam so to speak before he started feeling better. The rest of the night he laid in his bed, coming to the realization that his life in general was too procedural for his liking. Facebook friends and online chats weren't cutting it anymore. People were always too busy to have any sort of adventure he thought; what to do?

The following morning, he rose from his bed feeling lighter than the day before. He was about to get a shower in before his early shift when he received a voicemail from his manager, Georgio at the local Perkins restaurant. Georgio labeled Scott as a cautionary tale if he was to be hired as a chef in their kitchen, but he more than made up for it as being a people person. The voicemail was timed at 9:15 P.M. Scott had his phone on silent the entire night; a decision he was most likely to regret.

Georgio: Yo, Scotty, it's Georgio! Listen, some of your co-workers have been wonderin' when you're coming back to serve. No one's seen you in over two weeks and things have been gettin' hectic around here. I thought you said you were taking a week off to "clear your head" on some personal issues with your family? You're not lyin' to me, are ya Scotty? Look, if I don't hear from you by the end of tomorrow, I'm giving your job to someone else. I got a business to run and I need all hands on deck, especially with the holidays coming. Get back to me.

Big man with a plan Georgio; was always playing the passive-aggressive game with Scott when it came to in his eyes "smuggling" sweets out of the restaurant around closing time. One Sunday evening, there was a big get together Scott was invited to and was tasked in bringing the dessert. When he was done paying for a Boston cream pie with his own money, Georgio came down on him like he murdered one of his best co-workers in cold blood. They had a falling out which caused Georgio to not show up for work for three days. Over the four years he's worked at Perkins, the voicemail was kind of the last nail on the coffin for his place over there. The passive-aggressive game was becoming tiresome and desserts weren't that sweet anyway, he thought. Then, he stopped himself.

Scott: There you go thinkin' of food again. Boston cream pie; tasted a lot better when Crystal was making it. Ho-ly shit could she make a mean Apple Pie, too. Goddamn it! *ponders for a moment* Maybe I do have a death wish. Life's not doin' me wrong, but it hasn't been right with me either. What the hell is wrong with me? *bedroom phone rings three times* Gold residence.

Doctor Calvano: Scott, this is Doctor Calvano. I'm just calling to check up on you since your last visit. How're you livin' these days?

Scott: This is startin' to turn into a therapy session. Next you'll be charging me by the hour, too.

Doctor Calvano: Funny you'd mention that. I've been making some calls and managed to get a hold of a specialist in case your diet was spiraling further down.

Scott: Guilty as charged, Doc…

Doctor Calvano: Jesus.

Scott: I'm not goin' anywhere. I'm still above ground.

Doctor Calvano: And this specialist is going to help you stay that way. If you won't listen to my advice, maybe you'll listen to his!

Scott: Doc, I… *rubs his eyes and breathes deeply*

Doctor Calvano: What's up?

Scott: I had a sharp pain in my stomach last night. That usually happens after my fourth pie tin, but this took place when I ate half a pumpkin pie. My point is I need to make some drastic changes, not just eating but my life in general. How good is this specialist?

As good a specialist his Doctor claimed, this individual was a creature of specific procedures. He went by the name of Roland Burns: one of the world's youngest psychologists who specialized in duality. Not being remotely sold on what Scott was hearing, Doctor Calvano explained Roland had a gift to reach into a human's subconscious to find the source of their pitfalls in life. Whether it's drug addiction, domestic abuse, or using food as a defense mechanism to hide one's emotions he always came to the conclusion there was another side of the person pulling the strings while the primary side is, for lack of a better term, "trapped". The pitch from Calvano was subtle, but feeling trapped was what caught Scott's eye.

As much as he loved food in general, he wasn't ready to leave the mortal coil just yet. And so he followed the required instructions on when, where, and how to meet Roland; the midday sun was the first sign in locating him. Dallas weather wasn't particularly kind to a Psychologist's profession so the midday sun being partially covered by trees was a way to energize his sessions. The next was to find a building in the shape of a greenhouse. The combination of open space and nature growing with each passing day breeds inspiration for Roland whenever he was trying to find the right words to sum up a problem. The "how" in this scavenger hunt was a bit on the impossible side: trust in him. In today's society, trust and bullshit go hand in hand and can never decipher which is which.

Scott said adios to his time as a waiter and took a drive out on the Dallas roads to find Doctor Burns. It took about two hours and forty-seven minutes to find the greenhouse in a haystack, only to find himself driving towards a blue building in a corner somewhere. It was weird he thought, never seeing this place from living in Texas all his life. It had an abandoned vibe he couldn't shake, or he could have misread the directions on the way. As he got out of his car, the sudden rigid sway of his stomach caused another sharp pain, soaring in him like a Star Wars Podracer.

It nearly brought him to his knees; he shook it off and took a brisk walk towards what he simply called the "blue" house. Entering its atmospheric setting, Scott felt like he was in a different part of the world. Leagues of various plants formed wall art around the house, temperature going from heatwave on the outside to a somewhat comfortable feel, but throughout these subtle findings Scott found no sign of Burns.

Scott: Hello! *voice echoing throughout the "blue" house* Roland Burns! This here's one strange place for a therapy room.

…

Roland: Therapy is what… * appears behind Scott without a sound of a footstep* … and where you make it.

Scott: Well, hot damn. That was some Assassin's Creed type stealth, mister.

Roland: I had a patient who believed himself to be an "Auditore" once a few years back. Do you know what happened to him?

Scott: He couldn't do an Italian accent…?

Roland: *sighs* He found out his two sons got their throats cut at school; twelve year old twin boys. It was a tragedy, but I somehow got him coping with what happened.

Scott: What did you do?

Roland: Why are you here, Scott?

Scott: My Physician recommended you to me, said you can get me off my pie problem. Fair warning, sir, pie is one thing, food in general is another. If you think you can convince to go on a Jenny Craig diet and go to the gym with your psychology method…

Roland: It's more than a method. It's duality. Walk with me.

Roland went further in depth with what his practice contained and what results it provided for his patients. Right off the bat, he acknowledged how young he was. Speculation after speculation about him mentally shot down in Scott's brain as he began to understand how Roland wasn't born choking on a silver spoon, but rather a self-made individual who had to take his lessons out into a society where every decision and footstep was a fine line between life and death. From what Scott was gathering so far, it seemed the good shrink grew up around a military heavy family that moved around a lot, or if he was a victim of some kind of war that caused him to adapt on his feet. He wasn't very heavy on the gory details, only when he was a kid he reached a breaking point where his mind was split into two, experiencing multiple personalities at once. Over the next eight years of his life, he made it his life's goal testing the waters of his newfound side; one that looks monsters in the eye and says "not today".

Scott: Hope you don't mind me sayin' but you're talking in circles, Doctor Burns.

Roland: It's what keeps my patients having consistent lives. They enter my greenhouse and leave with a brand new perspective.

Scott: Look, all I want is to stop eating pie and move on with my life.

Roland: And perhaps prolong your lifespan? Doctor Calvano told me about your current condition. Are you that afraid to lose weight?

Scott: In all honesty, I'm content with how I look. I don't have a girlfriend, I don't live in fancy mansions, and I sure as hell don't see myself working the stair climber. I know my path, problem is getting there.

Roland: Sounds like you have things figured out. If you're content with how you look, why bother coming to me?

Scott: I said I know my path, but the fork in the road suggests I have two paths to cross: one has me growing old doing whatever it is I love to do while the other just closes my story without an ending. Guess you can say I wish I could split myself into two people so I can enjoy the former path. A part of me is… scared if my health takes another spill. I ain't ready to go, Doctor Burns. Calvano said you can help me so… I'm here and if it turns out to be hot air, then I'll have to make some very big decisions when this session is over.

One beep, one random sound indicating something delicious was to emerge from it. It was the only conclusion Scott was able to draw from the scent of banana with a hint of mint freshening his inner nostrils. Roland proposed to try some of his homemade Banana Mint Tiramisu. Scott wasn't very big on anything mint or lemon flavored, but as both walked closer to an outside kitchen area of the blue house Roland described his yearly delicacy was something worth more than holiday gifts.

Two hours went by like ten minutes for the unknown Therapist and the unsung Dallas man. Both got to know each other a little more, but something about Roland kept ringing in his head that there was more to him than his philosophy on the dual subconscious. It went back to the "voices in your head" theory. And yet according to Calvano, Roland somehow made his life's work on turning the alternate persona into some kind of tumor to be removed from the brain. The more Scott tried to get a better read on him, the more questions he had; only referring to his research not being the benefit of humankind.

Suffice it to say, Scott had two observations: either the shrink was a brilliant individual and needs special eyes to understand him, or he was schizophrenic making up bold claims that weren't consistent. After taking the tiramisu out of the oven, the vibrant smell clung to their taste buds and didn't let go until two hours after Roland took it out of his refrigeration unit.

Roland: Cheers!

Scott: Wait. Goddamn, as good as this looks I gotta stay away from anything creamy. *puts his plate down in front of him*

Roland: Trust me, Scott. I assure you one bite of my tiramisu is all you'll need to curb your hunger. I saw the same thing with bread on Lord of the Rings once; one bite can fill the stomach of an adult. Consider it as a proper send off to your pie addiction.

Scott: I dunno. One bite's never been enough for me.

Roland: Heaven forbid if it doesn't taste good to you, you can spit it out. I don't mind. Take a leap of faith with me.

For someone who unequivocally believed there are two souls in a single being, he was putting a lot of stock in a treat Scott himself was hesitant to try. All it took was one bite; a single morsel that confirmed Roland's high opinion of the tiramisu. It was definitely something Scott thought as the thick banana cream coaxed his throat, slowly hugging it. At first, he thought he needed water; that was when he dropped his plate and started choking. With one hand softly clinging to his neck beard, the cream at the back of his throat grew, bulging his eyes at a man a little too pleased with himself.

Roland: *stands up and walks towards Scott* This is going to help you, Scott. My dessert is your first step in ridding baked goods for life. I've been waiting to try it on a new person.

Scott: *choking* Wh-what, the fffff… !

Roland: Truth is I don't know who I am. All I know is if I don't stay my course, things will 'not' end well for me. You may yet survive this though. Don't fight it. You're about to experience duality in its purest form.

Scott: Wat… wa… wa…

Roland: An ocean will dawn on you soon, my friend. *Stands up* Beyond that is up to you. *voice echoing* I hope we never see each other again…

Scott rolled on his back with his eyes at the back of his head. Free of breath and banana cream seeping out of his mouth, his story leading up to what happened at the blue house was the last thing leaving his soon-to-be-cold carcass, and a new tale of shenanigans was forming in the silent shadows.

8


	2. Chapter 2: Macon Bacon

Excerpt 2: Macon Bacon

" _While the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, a peach remains fastened in its orchard, never forgetting where it came from."_

Thunder was heard like the calm before a volcanic eruption, emitting small shocks throughout a stout exterior. Shaken and a sudden fear of drowning, all of a sudden Scott's eyes widened as if he was reliving his near death experience play by play. Slowly but surely, a waterfall exploded from his mouth as he came to witness a blinding rainstorm. No signs of life or community in sight; just the rain and the cooling rush of relief surfing down his back that he was in the land of the living. Even with the weight of his soaked clothes, he pulled himself up and called out, "Roland… ROLAAAAAAANNNNDDDD!"

As much as he wanted to find the demented shrink and strangle him for what he did, taking a few steps in the wrong direction gave him a scary reminder he was indeed alive. A car hydroplaned past him, and with two seconds he caught a glimpse of the license plate. It definitely wasn't Texas he thought. He took his time wandering through the rainstorm to what seemed like he was walking in circles. Eventually, he came across a bus bench with an overhead he could sit in and get his bearings.

The rain was never ending; only other sounds he heard were cars driving through the flooded streets. He took the time to ponder his next move; so many questions where only three were relevant.

Scott: How the hell did I get here? *squeezes water out of his long hair while feeling his neck for any stiffness* I'm not chokin' anymore. That's a goddamn relief. Okay, first I gotta get to a phone, left my cell back in my car. Probably stolen by now; damn it brother when will you learn? *clears his throat* Focus on the positive side, if this is heaven I don't hafta worry 'bout eating anything fattening.

*A noise barrier breaking thunder sends Scott jumping off his seat*

… Then again, y'know what happens when you assume; might as well wait 'till the rain clears up.

Given his Dallas beginnings, the weather rarely broke its dry protocol. It's usually very humid and summery all year round. Granted, not Florida weather but close to being its forgotten brother in Mother Nature's scheme of things. His third, burning question kept bothering him as to how he was still alive from what happened at the blue house? Given Roland's reclusive nature and lack of electronics, Scott perceived him as the man who dupes curious souls into trying his shady dessert. The last thing he heard before he was about to meet his maker was that an ocean was to surround him; irony wasn't completely cruel to him. After all, he did beg for water.

Even with the rain coming down in front of him, his eyes started feeling heavy as well as his stomach being numb. It felt like being awake during an operation with anesthesia working its effect so he wouldn't feel pain. That kind of solace lowered his eyes and three hours later, Scott's ears caught the rain slowing down as well as his right shoulder being nudged profusely. His eyes remained half opened, looking upon a little girl with steely eyes and a smile that would make a serial killer's heart open up.

Little girl: Wake up mister!

Scott: Ugh, *rubs his right eye* wha-how long was I asleep?

Little girl: Few hours; has anyone told you look like a mountain when you sleep upright?

Scott: Maybe I was meditatin'. Some mountains can remain deep in thought for thousands of years. Why were you nudging my shoulder?

Little girl: You're squishy… probably not a good thing though.

Scott: Huh?

*A male, friendly voice calls out to her*

Father: Allie! The bus will be here any minute. Your mother's very anxious to get to the airport.

Scott: Where are y'all goin?

Allie: *gathers her suitcase* Washington DC. My parents got tickets to see the new President of the United States at the White House.

Scott: Sounds fun. Hey um, this is gonna sound strange but what state am I in?

Father: Sweetheart! Your mother's about to pop a vein!

Allie: *takes his left hand and looks into his half asleep eyes* You've been given a second chance, Scott. You're still a decent man. *whispers in his ear* Welcome to Macon, Georgia.

Scott furrowed his brows in a confusing manner, watching the little girl Allie run off with her parents as the bus came through. How did she know his name, and why in all things tasty was he drip-drying in Georgia? He got a good look at the bus before it took off for the airport; he couldn't believe who the next figure in office was going to be. To what felt like a lifetime ago, he thought this guy was just joking around on Facebook, but to be selected as the new Commander in Chief was something he didn't expect. "Franklin Reid: time for two backhands of reality for America."

It was both mind numbing and fantastic he thought. Once he was ready for another jog through the rain, he stood up with his clothes sticking to every orifice of his body and moved on. There wasn't much to gawk at in the peach state. Everybody running to their cars and shoving past others with umbrellas in tow, even one civilian got knocked flat on his ass when he bumped into Scott by accident. If there was one advantage being the way he was, his stomach had the same density as steel, keeping him on his heels while walking further inland until he reached a neighborhood of sorts. With no cell phone or wallet to his name, Scott was getting tired by the rain and without thinking, found himself leaping over a fence at the back of one of the houses.

The house he saw definitely had a summer vibe to it, and from what he understood about Georgia was when the heat wave hits, the grills jump into high gear and the pools balance the human condition so it doesn't pass out. Not even five steps walking towards the terrace door he saw a dog leap through and stopped to confront the jaded giant. Scott's heart stopped while the dog's mystery was hidden behind innocent, yet piercing eyes, like it sensed his fear and wanted to gnaw on it with its teeth.

Scott: *takes a few short, deep breaths* Somethin's off. You've rolled around with big dogs before. This one ain't different. I just need to dance around him, run inside, and politely make a phone call. I wonder if my brother's up in UGA; lucky bastard. Okay, any second you're gonna nut up and quit talkin' to yourself. Just frickin' do it.

One sidestep activated the territorial canine's mental alarm, barking up a storm with each bark hitting Scott's brain like a hangover. He scrunched his eyes and made a run for it as both sides of the yard were about to collide. It was no more than a tenth of a second the dog slammed his breaks by the sound of a commanding whistle from its owner. When Scott opened his eyes and the pain in his head subsided, a tall fellow with stubble and a stance like he was in the marines at one point was revealed before him.

Michael Knight: BamBam! Get over here, boy! *slaps his right knee twice as the dog ran over barking in a friendly tone*

Scott: Thanks, man. I've rolled with big dogs back in Dallas, but for some reason I damn near crapped myself when I saw… *Michael pointed a rifle at him* Oh, fuck.

Michael: Who the hell are you, and what'chu doin' on my property?

Scott: Been askin' myself that since I woke up. Mind if I stand?

Michael: Slowly. *raises his rifle as Scott stands up*

Scott: I just need to use a phone. I'm not here to cause y'all any problems.

Michael: That right? Know what happened to the last stranger who claimed the same? My wife got shot. Now, you listen to me. I used to be the inviting type, but not so much these days. Payphones are two blocks from here, near the school zone. Use one of those.

Scott: Could if I would, sir. Thing is… I don't have any money.

Jane: Babe, what is goin' on out there?

Through various interpretations and the occasional pick-up line, an angel from the south can soothe the deepest wounds with merely a smile. Scott had encountered a few in the 26 years he lived in Texas, ones with hearts of gold as well as stone. To what seemed to be this Mike's wife appearing in the doorway, Scott was struck by the allure of a southern Georgian belle. Eyes as blue as the serene pacific, lightly tanned skin with a form that seemed like she was about to bellow a cranky response at any given moment. And who can blame her, Scott thought? Given the weather and the sun just barely up in the sky, it was still around the early morning and she didn't exactly have her face on, but for the informal situation taking place, such things remained petty in his mind.

Michael: Well, hon seems like we got a slack jawed bear in our backyard.

Scott: I accept that. I'm not exactly the healthiest person around.

Jane: What's your business here, mister?

Scott: If y'all would allow me to use your phone, I got a brother up at the University of Georgia who can pick me up.

Jane: *starts limping down the stairs* As my crack shot husband told you, we were attacked once. Less thick in the mid-section, but had eyes as big and soulless as yours. I took a bullet to the left thigh.

Scott: And I'm sorry you went through that, ma'am. *Starts feeling a sharp pain in his lower abdomen again, rendering him to hold onto his stomach with both hands and taking a knee* Can I be honest with you? I shouldn't even be alive right now.

Michael: Last chance stranger. Tell me who you are and why you're here.

Scott: My name's Scott Gold *grunts in pain*. I live in… Da-Dallas, Texas. I went to see a shrink on some personal problems, he poisoned me or somethin'. Before I knew it, I woke up in the howling rain, in Macon it seems. Look, if I'm dead then why am I not shakin' hands with Jesus?

Michael: It's your call, Jane. Should we keep him on a short leash?

Jane: We need to keep _this_ troublemaker from running out the house. *calls over BamBam* Get your behind back in the house! Heavenly Father, help me. Search him then bring him inside. I need some coffee and a shower, and not in that particular order.

Once the rifle was lowered, the pain threshold in Scott's stomach was raised enough so he could tolerate it and what was to come. Michael remained suspicious of the Dallas man's motives as to why he suddenly woke up in Georgia without the means to get him there. As they went inside the house, it was homey and average, not the kind a couple of southerners would be squatting in, but then again "home" was all relative. An hour being in the land of the living still, Scott got a chance to get a feel for what kind of place they were keeping. Apart from the mischievous natured dog, the rest of the family had a religious nature to it.

A few crosses and a bible sitting comfortably in their living room, plasma screen TV with a Playstation 4 system setup. A small part of Scott took pity in that department, considering they didn't have a library of games. When the tour was over, Michael went over to the kitchen to get a clean dishtowel for Scott to dry his face off at least. Scott was still doing double takes since he arrived; was all this heaven or some form of purgatory? He had this nagging feeling he knew who these people were before, not in-person but just seen them around on social media and whatnot.

Scott: You guys got a nice home.

Michael: *starts brewing up some coffee* Thanks, we maintain the upkeep as best we can; coffee?

Scott: Weirdly enough, a glass of water.

*Michael cautiously offers him a glass of water*

Michael: You're clean. No pocket knives, not even a wallet. But don't think you're outta the woods yet.

Scott: Mike, can I call you Mike?

Michael: You may.

Scott: Anything I tell ya is gonna sound like horseshit to you and your wife. My story was once simple, now it consists of having a "second chance".

Michael: What've you done?

All of a sudden, Jane walked into the kitchen to encounter what seemed to be a civilized conversation between two adults. The air was tense and Scott was trying his best not to lose himself again.

Jane: *whispers to Mike* Remember we have that sermon we were invited to later today.

Michael: Gabe's been houndin' me for weeks. I know. We praise Jesus everyday.

Jane: He's just excited, is all. *sits down at the kitchen table to confront Scott* So, what's the deal with him?

Michael: He's clean for the most part. He's not packin'.

Jane: Since my accident, I can't afford to be too careful these days. You said you got a brother up at UGA?

Scott: Yeah, if I could give him a ring, that'd be great.

*Janes pulls out one of the portable phones from the living room. Scott extends his hand when Jane pulls back*

Jane: I wanna meet your brother, too. If he's cool as well, you're free to go.

Michael: Tick tock, stranger. Don't take too long.

Even with his fingers still pruny from the rain, his optimism kicked in and motivated him enough to dial the numbers to call his older brother, Reilly. However, his nerves started kicking back in after four dial tones. Looking over his shoulder was the last thing he wanted to do, knowing the angel and her human sickle was going to strike him down at any moment. At the start of the fifth dial tone, thankfully as his nerves started going down, the UGA college student's voice spoke on the other end.

Scott: Hey, Reilly, it's me Scott! It's good to hear your voice, brother.

 _Reilly: Scott? Holy shit! Why is the caller ID read Macon, Georgia?_

Scott: I… I uh, I can't explain it, not over the phone anyway. Listen, you gotta come pick me up man. Let me stay at your campus house for a while.

 _Reilly: Campus house… what's goin' on?_

Scott: I was visiting this shrink back in Dallas, he poisoned me and somehow I ended up in the peach state.

 _Reilly: Jesus fucking Christ, Scott. You went to see a Therapist, he gave you something, and you ended up in another state?_

Scott: Fucked up, right? I don't know why I'm here. I don't have any money since my wallet is back in Dallas. *takes a deep sigh* Can you come get me?

 _Reilly: Ah, son of a… alright! Gimme the address and I'll get'chu._

Scott: Oh, thank god! I owe you big time, brother. I promise I'll explain everything.

There was a long period where Scott and Reilly were inseparable, almost like two peas in a pod. As kids, they carried big dreams of going into show business. One wanted to direct while the other wanted to be a screenwriter for any kind of show. Scott wasn't picky on the latter; what for TV series like Arrow, The Walking Dead and Game of Thrones. He, too, wanted to give something to those worlds and leave his mark. Reilly on the other hand wanted to direct big time movies and butt heads against Studio Execs on what sells as a film and what works as a film.

Over the years as they grew from kids with big dreams to adults with small outlets to get by, struggle and financial means drove them apart. For Scott, it was food and one of the reasons that made Reilly develop a hatred for him. It was no secret that the next morsel was going to kill him, maybe to offer some cosmic justice to those he's hurting around him, but his optimism and cool headedness kept his feet from dragging and his soul thriving. While explaining life anecdotes with Jane and Mike, he also brought up a more in-depth explanation on the shrink he met. He said Roland had a firm and calculating way about him with a blue house that wasn't visible on any Google Map.

Mike still wasn't fully sold on this tale, but he believed that Scott believed what he was telling them. Jane was usually the one wearing an invisible bullshit detector to see whether the next minute was going to have Scott in handcuffs or a bullet in the ass. Being a family of casual faith, she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt by allowing him to wait until Reilly arrived. Before anyone knew it, time went from pouring rain to pouring juice into a small glass as all three sat down to a Sunday breakfast; the French toast with a side of authentic, homemade bacon was just what the doctor ordered… well, metaphorically anyway. Scott's stomach was still a mystery and thought about taking that next bite of fatty sustenance. "You only live once, right?" He told himself as all four, including BamBam heard knocking at their door.

Jane: *takes the rifle* I got this one.

Mike: You sure?

Jane: Need the practice, can't be too careful these days. Y'all don't touch your plates, ya hear?

*In a slick manner, Mike slowly reaches for a piece of Georgia bacon when suddenly a shot goes off in the living room, leaving both Scott and Mike's hearts skip three beats.*

… Relax, it's just a ringtone!

Michael: My wife can act crazy sometimes.

Jane: Your slick game is weak, Michael. I know that trick!

Scott: A freakin' gunshot as a ringtone?

Michael: You lucky she didn't pull it for real *drops bacon back on the plate*; happy wife, happy life. Food for thought if you get married someday.

Opening the front door, Jane was greeted by her brother, Gabriel. The man too had an optimistic way about him, but only expressed it through putting on a big smile or singing a Gospel. Out of all the members in the Gore family, Gabe had the curse of having kidney stones. No matter how many times he went to his Physician, the stones kept hitting him where he lived, sometimes leaving him feeling hopeless. For the past few years it seemed like everyday was a fight for him.

However, the only fight he was waging was the near back breaking hug only her sister would bring. Not only that, the pain from his kidney stones ventured to the background when he and Jane's son, Thane put together a special night service for an even more special Preacher. Miracles tend to happen when you no longer believe in them, and for tonight especially, Gabe was praying Heaven and Earth this Preacher would rid him of his bodily sin, and return him to physical fruition. The same went for Jane as well with her leg wound. The pain was gone, but the memory of what took place never fled her mind.

She and Mike were always rebels against the less courteous types, and for a short period that may have been the problem. "Speak a little truth to a naysayer, and everyone loses their darn minds!" The mystery man behind the shooting was only told to her immediate family, only to be shown by a fifth member when both entered the kitchen. Strange enough, Gabe was the only one who recognized Scott.

Gabe: Scott…?

Scott: Eh… howdy?

Gabe: How the heck have you been, brother? *embraces him as such, leaving Scott to question the moment* When'd you get here?

Scott: Uh, well, how do we know each other?

Gabe: You know, over Facebook, which I might add is still goin' strong after the bi-laws were passed.

Scott: The world's policed enough as it is. What did Facebook do to have bi-laws on it?

*Jane, Gabe, and Mike look at each other like Scott was living under a rock, never fully expressing that notion verbally*

Michael: This is why I never use social media. Here's hopin' our new President can make things easier for others.

Scott: Someone wanna fill me in?

Jane: Five years ago, social media outlets went bonkers over celebrities electing themselves for office.

Michael: To hell with Trump. What Franklin Reid did to his toupee after it mutated and jumped off his head… if I was there I would've curb stomped the damn thing and him. It was that major news event that shined some hope for America.

Gabe: God is good.

Jane: Amen!

Scott: Whoa, whoa, what now?! It's 2015. The only thing Trump was runnin' was that Apprentice show back in '05.

Gabe: Scotty is everything alright with you; why are you here anyway?

Michael: BamBam was causin' trouble again.

Jane: First, the candy apple mess, then Thane's Xbox system…

Michael: *looks at the dog* What are we gonna do with you, boy?

Scott: Wait! What year is it?

Jane: … It's the year 2020.

Scott was left in disbelief again. His eyes widened and his jaw slightly dropped; five years. For a moment, he couldn't breathe, causing him to jump out of his seat with his right hand glued to the side of his head. He didn't know what to think, and if it really was the year 2020 he thought, that would mean Reilly graduated from UGA almost three years before. What was he still doing in Georgia then?

So many questions and very little patience to think them over, not at the Knight homestead anyway. He stormed out of the house without much show of gratitude for not getting shot, stopping himself before getting clipped by a fast moving car. On his hands and knees, the jell-0 effect on his joints kept him from walking in a straight line. Not even three blocks from the house he missed a trash can as he threw up and felt sickly all over. As if the near death experience wasn't frightening enough, he'd thought the pedestrians walking past him and looking at him with disgust would seal his fate, but the plot kept thickening as both hands clutched the rim of the trash can, lifting himself up to see an old newspaper of sorts.

It spoke of 2020 as a time of old conflicts like Middle Eastern strikes and ISIS coming to an end, and replacing them with new theaters of terror around specific areas around the globe. It also explained how the new President was going to utilize Niagara Falls to cleanse the masterminds behind the new terrors such as an 80's toy catastrophe cooking up in South Carolina, a free nation of video gamers preparing unique types of people to repel other threats, and so on. The names weren't mentioned, but at this point he didn't know what to think. He was a big man without a cause for the future. "Where has the time gone?" He asked.

Just when he gained a fragment of momentum to get up and find his brother his leg joints felt like jell-0 still, and that maybe stopping altogether would be the sanest choice. His brain was running marathons in his head and had zero idea what to do. He took himself to a street curb where the traffic held less sway and waited. From there, he sat still and tried collecting his thoughts when the voice of a little girl came up to join him.

Allie: *shows Scott a cup of soup* Need a pick-me-up?

Scott: *looks down and nods his head* Leave me alone.

Allie: It's chicken and stars. Winter's not far off and figured you need something to warm you up.

Scott: Well more power to Mother Nature. I ain't hungry.

Allie: Can I be honest with you, then? Roland "killed" me, too.

*Scott furrowed his brows as he looked up and saw the same little girl he met at the bus stop*

Scott: How do you know him?

Allie: "The Obelisk thirsts for retribution."

Scott: What the heck's an 'obelisk'?

Allie: … Tonight, a very gifted Preacher is going to speak at New City Church. You should go.

Reilly came in like wildfire the moment he saw his puke shirt brother sitting all by his lonesome on a street curb. For Scott, his situation turned into a blink and miss. One minute he was talking to Allie, then when his brother's truck horn blocked out other sounds on the street she disappeared. Next to him laid the soup she offered him still tolerably hot in his hands. Reilly shouted at him to get in and darted out of the area. The two brothers had their mindsets twisted the moment they saw each other, mostly Reilly because he thought Scott was dead.

Scott: I'm glad to see you, man. Fuck _me._

Reilly: That all you gotta say, you fat son of a bitch?!

Scott: Hey, she's your mama, too.

Reilly: Jesus Christ! How is it you're still alive?!

Scott: Tryin' to figure that one out myself.

Reilly: That lying fuck, if I ever see him again…

Scott: Well, hey bro, long time no see! Glad you're still in one piece! Please tell me we're still in the year 2015. Some Gore family told me it is five years later.

Reilly: *Looks at Scott in horror* You really don't know, do you? Was it Triple T's camp; did they brainwash you just like that Obelisk guy did to 'em in Dallas?

Scott: Dude, I'm glad you're here. But I dunno what the flying _fuck_ you're yammerin' about!

Reilly: I've managed to get most of the family out of Texas. Carrie, Liz, mama… they're all staying at my wife's loft up here in Macon. They're gonna be real happy to see you.

Scott: New City Church.

Reilly: Uh-oh spaghetti-oh, what're you talking about?

Scott: Let's just get to the loft. I need to drink some soup.

The two lost brothers calmed themselves down once they were out on the road and drove towards his lady's loft up in Porterdale. Scott's day was just getting weirder and weirder; from nearly dying of food poisoning, to almost getting shot by a Macon family, to jumping five years over the course of a day. "What more could go wrong?" He asked himself. For the duration of the drive, all Scott could count on was one thing; soup was the only thing that made sense.

11


	3. Chapter 3: The World That Was No More

Excerpt 3: The World That Was No More

Five years ago, radio silence was a rare occurrence in Texas. From your run-of-the-mill country music to metal bands like Five Finger Death Punch, everyone had their personal radio stations to tune in for a beat that uplifted one's mood. The world that was before was a gradual dying dream in the world that is now. However, the term "radio silence" deterred from its literal meaning. While the Gold boys were driving to Porterdale, every station Scott tuned into spun the same gloomy tales of a man from South Carolina going mad to some school in a distant territory where neither cars nor planes would have the fuel to reach.

He still couldn't piece it all together, and a part of him was afraid to ask his own brother Reilly the big picture. After changing eight different stations, he could tell Reilly was getting agitated by the way his left hand was gripping the wheel, the angry squint in his eyes that were focusing on both the road ahead as well as his sleeping giant sibling. Scott took a break, picking up his chicken soup as its warm liquid settled his nerves and his jumpy sight. _"The Obelisk thirsts for retribution."_ Scott thought to himself. This was starting to sound like one of his intriguing video games… or the plot of a crappy movie Hollywood usually makes.

As they were 23 miles east of Atlanta, the silence between them turned into a sharp needle being stuck in one's neck. One was itching to get an explanation on what was going on from the other. Reilly was never the one to shy away from a conversation, but Scott blurted out something to break the awkward silence.

Scott and Reilly: Just wanted to say/Could you turn…

Reilly: My bad. You were gonna say something.

Scott: I'm just as shocked as you are, Rye. One minute I'm starin' at half eaten Pumpkin Pie, next I wake up five years later. I still don't believe it's the year 2020. That fucking shrink poisoned me and I end belly up in a rainstorm. Now, Doctor Calvano, his other patients used to say he was a lot of things; corner cutter, womanizer, but he was a family friend of ours for some time. Why would he do this to me?

Reilly: Bro… ain't gonna sugarcoat it. Calvano's dead.

Scott: Guess the job's done for me, then.

Reilly: Fuck you, yeah he was a lot of things mama didn't like in particular, but what happened to him I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy, and there's a shit ton of them out there since the singularity.

Scott: Come again?!

Reilly: Scott, was that "shrink" by any chance Roland Burns?

Scott: Yeah, but… how could he… *suddenly starts piecing things in his head* Aw, _shit,_ this is turnin' into a plot of a shitty movie.

Generic or not, Roland Burns was the cause of the big changes that took place in the five years Scott was deemed "missing" from his family. Way back when Franklin Reid announced his Presidency, he took to going through private proxy servers to track down a renowned Therapist. Rumors spoke of him going crazy after a falling out he had with a teaching position he was trying to seize at Penn State. The young man was smart, perhaps one of the smartest in his family of ten children. Being a man in his early twenties, he also had an old soul of believing of taking necessary steps to distance himself from the shadow of his family so he can make a name for himself.

When he received the usual backhand from reality, he retreated to more simple yet invigorating means to push himself. Reilly continued saying that of all of Roland's accomplishments from graduating High School at fourteen, and trampled through triage to get his teaching degree at the University of Vermont, one loud pattern kept cropping up in Frank's searches. Doctor Who: a 50 year old British show about space, time, screwdrivers and a diversity of creatures lurking in different time lines. Roland obsessed, studied, and after months of living without a teaching opportunity, he developed a base in a remote part of the world. Franklin couldn't explain it, but he had this gut feeling he knew Roland somewhere in another life, different name maybe.

His search came to an end when he stumbled upon an experiment he strived to perfect, and to Scott's ears the term rang loud and clear: duality. Scott stopped Reilly mid-sentence, recalling "duality" as something Roland favored a lot in the brief time he spent with him in his blue-greenhouse. Reilly continued stating he was one of those guys who didn't believe crockpot theories and that a man like Franklin Reid was even more insane to run for office based on speculation of a mad Therapist. However, in the day and age back then people were willing to vote for anyone that was not Donald Trump, but that part Reilly didn't fully explain until they got to Porterdale. The town of Porterdale was unlike anything Scott saw in Macon.

It felt like he took another leap in time from modern day families aching to shoot him, to feasting his eyes on the historical aspect of the peach state. "Georgia's historic mill village" as it said on one of the billboards driving into town. Apart from taking steps back from their dreams due to financial reasons, Reilly himself wasn't big on history. When they were children he copied off one of Scott's book reports on the Battle of Little Bighorn.

Reilly: We're here. I hope Liz and the wife kept the security lasers up.

Scott: Lasers and flyin' drones ain't shit compared to having a lightsaber at your side.

Reilly: How the hell did you hear about 'em?

Scott: Hear about what?

Reilly: *sighs* These days, we can literally believe anything's possible. Lightsabers exist now.

Scott: No shit?! Well, hell, after I reunite with the Gold clan, how's about we go saber hunting? I can teach y'all how to wield a dual-blade in _no_ time.

Reilly: Good luck with that. They're expensive than the Taj goddamn Mahal and you have to have special type of gloves to wield their handles.

Scott: Hot damn on a buttery biscuit! We've finally reached the new age. *looks at an exhausted Reilly with excitement before lowering a few notches* Mama, Liz and the others…

Reilly: I'll explain once we reach Carrie's loft.

Scott: I owed Liz two tickets to see Pitbull in concert. She's gonna be pissed.

Scott has seen lofts on the internet before, but Carrie's loft was something out of a sci-fi novel. Lightsabers he thought to himself, wondering if the Government finally grew the stones to build an actual Death Star in space. Getting out of the car, he kept the jinxing to a minimum in case he was seeing green light shooting from the pale blue sky. He had to admit, although he woke up in what alluded to be a post-apocalyptic society, not a lot of neighborhoods looked worn down by gunfire and such. The sky maintained its baby blue and the sun radiated a summer air that could make Georgia Miami's likeable brother.

The loft had a laser field at the front gate and some homemade traps placed on the building. All it needed was a force field to complete the sci-fi stigma… and humanoid aliens as the cherry on top. Even the inside of the loft was normal; definitely a "Gold"-en home. The smell of two day old pot roast left a lingering aroma in the living room, old newspaper clippings and online articles depicting the event that happened in 2015. As Reilly gave him a brief tour, Scott's ear deafened the voice of his brother as he came across a shrine of sorts of his family.

Photos of his brother, his sister Liz, Mama Marie, Aunt Sharron and other relatives he never had the pleasure of meeting. Scott was the kind of guy who didn't like funerals and usually shrines are made to commemorate someone's passing. Some of the pictures brought Scott back to a time when pie and self-doubt didn't run his life like a Cuban Dictatorship; a simpler time. His eyes welled up, placing both hands against the shrine's wall like he was about to collapse. Then, background noise gave way to his heart beating like bongo drums at a Puerto Rican Day Parade. Reilly's heavy pat on Scott's back brought him back to the now.

Reilly: You okay, bro?

Scott: *nods* Yeah, um, wha-what's all this?

Reilly: Carrie lost her home when the singularity affected Atlanta. That's where she lived before movin' here. She rarely talks about it and I don't exactly pry. She made this shrine as a way… we're still here.

Distant voice: You goddamn right we're still here.

Lizzy Gold; there has never been more of a brutally honest sibling in the family than her. As she was about to make another sarcastic comment on Reilly's goatee looking like a Viking, her throat closed up at the sight of Scott standing before her; "in all his pudgy glory" she said to herself. In another life, she was one of the few who didn't give two hoots about the size of his gut, but the size of his heart and wondered why it was still beating after what they heard about Dallas.

Scott: *gives a disjointed smile* Liz…

Liz: *chuckles trying to hold back tears* My god, get over here you fucking galute. *Both embrace each other as tightly as a Gold sibling can stand it* I guess you took my advice on going full Patrick Star.

Scott: Livin' under a rock? Not a freaking chance. You look good, sis.

Liz: And you haven't changed at all these five years. Rye, where did you find him?

Reilly: Scotty called me in Macon. I couldn't believe it myself when I saw him sitting on the pavement with soup can in hand.

Scott: I'm still processing all this. Y'all need to tell me everything that's happened.

Liz: *to Reilly* Has he seen mama yet?

Reilly: Once you've settled in, we'll fill you in on what the Gold clan's been up to. *To Liz* Where's mama anyway?

Liz: She's fixing one of the gun turrets in the basement. I'm just about to drive to a surplus store to pick up some more ammo caches.

Scott: Scale of 1 to 10, how pissed would she be if she saw me?

Reilly: *both look at each other with widened eyes* We know your gut's built like a tank, but can it withstand bullets like one?

No matter how old you get, facing a parent's wrath is the true test of a son or daughter's fortitude. Mama Marie is old school made. She had no qualms on disciplining her children in whatever way she could; Reilly most of all. There was no such thing as the "perfect child" in the family. The Golds were a bunch of misfits that caused trouble and had fun.

Born and formed in Dallas, Texas she ran the household like a tight ship with a few leaks that were plugged up with time. She wasn't a religious woman, but with her husband and Gold patriarch gone missing even before talk of singularity spread, she spoke to God most of the time whether it's thanking him for surviving the Dallas blast or pitying those who try to break into Carrie's loft with her turrets made out of car parts with a side of the local surplus down the road. Scott became less and less her favorite child over the years when he simply let himself go with pie and other junk food. At one point, it even drove them away one Thanksgiving. He was working seasonal at Perkins at the time.

So, seeing her again put a wrench on any happy homecoming between mother and son. Liz took Scott down to the basement where sparks and blueprints of home protection units filled the family's time. And before them was the birth of a deadly creation, something even out of mama's element: a robot.

Liz: Don't come in 'till I tell you. She gets edgy when she's building Holly.

Marie: *turns off her torch* I can feel two types of halitosis hittin' the back of my neck.

Liz: Just me, Tanya Stark! *Walks into the workshop* You've been working Holly for the past week. How's she doin'?

Marie: Gotta hand it to Johnny. He's a nut bar, but the guy knows his metal.

Liz: John Zilla's got issues, but he's been a personal friend of the family for a long time.

Marie: He and that Sea Captain discovered some hickey stones on the North Atlantic durin' one of their fishing trips. Next thing you know, his toys come alive. Anyway, what'chu need, honey?

Liz: *places her palm on Marie's left shoulder with assuring eyes* Reilly found him.

Neither Liz nor Scott were able to tell whether their mama was shocked with happiness or shocked laced with discontent coming soon after. Liz called out to him to come inside the workshop; the entire basement went silent and tense. From all the relatives that told Scott to lose weight and live a little longer, Marie was sad to see her son looking the same as he was five years ago. Both confronted each other with their hearts sitting in their throats.

Liz: Can I trust y'all to at least talk for a while 'fore you tear him a new one?

Marie: Leave us to our reunion. We have _a lot_ to talk about.

*Scott notices robot Holly's purple eyes following his every move, down to his wavy nose hairs. He keeps his distance.*

… Don't mind her. Her infiltration mode only observes the weirder shit happening around us. I've been working on her for a month, but it feels like a goddamn century. I don't know how your man Zilla managed to do it.

Scott: Mama, I- *Marie slaps him mid-sentence*

Marie: You left this family in a fucking wreck, you know that?!

Scott: I can explain. Well, I can't explain what happened to our home and Texas altogether-

Marie: How; that you're a low esteemed man who gets off on large amounts of food, someone who lives on a three tiered routine and doesn't go anywhere else? Scott I… *trying to compose her thoughts* I'm at a loss here. Am I dreaming? Is that what this is 'cause I still have this vivid image of you in a casket moments before the singularity changed our way of life.

Scott: That's the thing, mama. I dunno how the hell I survived my past dilemma or ended up in the peach state. It's all a freakin' mystery to me! All I have to go on is this singularity gibberish and some Psychologist is behind it.

Marie: Psychologist?

Scott: Roland Burns? Doctor Calvano recommended him; never heard of him before.

Marie: I never liked that prick wagging doc. How'd he become this family's physician I'll never know?

Scott: Maybe it was his homemade smoothies back when we were kids. Mom, I can't change how I look, no more than change how I think I look. No amount of exercise is gonna trim me down; no Jenny Craig or Daniel Craig. All I know is that I'm alive… and with those I love. Look, I'm no detective, but I got a lead on someone who can make sense of all this.

Marie: *Turns away and looks up at the ceiling for some form of understanding what is going on in front of her. A minute later, she gives off a huge sigh and turns her attention back to Scott* There's uh… there's this gathering down at New City Church. As you can see, Georgia wasn't affected as much as Texas, but somehow the rest of the world has gone topsy turvy with a side of cuckoo puffs.

Scott: Rye said lightsabers exist now, and not the toy kind either.

Marie: Boy if I had the moolah to nab one of them laser blades, life would be much easier here.

Scott: So, where do we go from here?

That's what she wanted to know. Life kept spewing roadblocks and U-turns in her life since Dallas. Knowing what took place in 2015 was something she and her family would never forget; seeing Scott again brought something different, whether it was good or bad was going to be a long debate. Nevertheless, in true Gold form she gave him a hug and smacked him on the head. Two hours after settling into the loft, that was when Carrie graced herself in everyone's presence. Reilly was the kind of chilled guy who wanted to find a chilled woman to match him.

Even on their first date, he was brought to his knees when she was wearing glasses and a silk green dress. There was a time they would both dance to Michael Jackson and attempt the moonwalk with sangria in their systems. The day before the singularity changed everything, they had plans to renew their vows at a church in Houston. The aftermath separated them, causing Reilly to wake up in a visceral conflict between SWAT and former Derby team members gone feral. It was like watching the lovechild of _300_ and _SWAT_ going at it in a bloody turf war, sending Texas in a state of panic.

It took him days to find his wife and back to Dallas to collect the others. Marie didn't have the heart to speak the rest. Once Carrie came in with takeout from Arby's, everyone gathered in the living room for a family meeting. Liz and Reilly welcomed him with uneasy yet open arms while Carrie had a nervous way seeing Scott sitting across the room. Not even roast beef was enough to settle her insides. Scott kept to himself and enjoyed others eating while waiting for the meeting to start.

Carrie: You're not eating, Scott? *biting into her sandwich*

Scott: Nah, my stomach ain't what it used to be.

Carrie: Ice cream.

Scott: Pardon?

Carrie: Preferably sherbert, it coaxes any stomach pains you have. It helped me a lot when your brother and I got split up near Houston.

Reilly: Sweetie, you don't have to-

Carrie: It's cool, I-I don't mind. From what I can see, everyone is shocked to see the great Scott Gold up and about.

Scott: Heh, you're very kind.

Liz: Care, wanna go first?

Carrie: Yeah *puts her sandwich to the side* I'd say it was about three and a half weeks before News Reports started coming back. We all hoofed it to Porterdale when Texas became ground zero of a tragic blast.

Reilly: Part of me wishes it was ISIS or some other asshole syndicate. Politicians don't do shit. Ted Cruz, Jeb Bush, all scurried with their tails between their legs. Donald Trump wanted to go ahead with his plan to build that large wall he kept yammerin' about.

Liz: But he got his tango with the devil soon enough.

Reilly: Shoulda been sooner. Man, the past five years were the toughest, but some of the best came out of it. First, it was your boy John Zilla, before he went insane and retreated back to South Carolina.

Scott: Mama said he and some captain sent some metal…?

Marie: They're defense mechanisms to keep our asses safe. I spent a lot of time learning how to build security protocols and Holly downstairs. I couldn't use the internet, but John had some old manuals lyin' around so he sent those.

Reilly: Who needs a Bachelor's when you got unread manuals? *everyone besides Scott softly chuckles*

Scott: Why did John go insane?

Why does anyone go insane? In John's case, he was a hop, skip and a jump from hitting the big 4-0 and was fed up with how his contributions to the working man kept getting shat on by typical arrogant people. Every day of his life was a battle for him; coping with the fact his Aunt Marlene had throat cancer to making ends meet at his job as a truck dispatcher. Day in and day out was making schedules, maintaining clients who were unsatisfied with delayed deliveries, and taking the annual fist to the family jewels when his boss's son ran the place. To the rest of the world, it seemed like an average day for the working man, but to John he had every intention to move up the corporate ladder.

That was when he came up with an idea, more of a concept really. He fell in love with the classic 80's cartoon Transformers and had a wide collection of Autobots in his man cave; Bumblebee, Ironhide, all the way to Optimus Prime himself. All were in mint condition and so he did something he didn't even have the financial means to pull off: he traveled to a dear old friend of his. Captain Robert Vaughn was in the same hole John was many moons ago, but as a southern man of the waters and a thirst for adventure, he took matters into his own hands and forged his Commercial Fishing Company with his wife. Robert was his own boss and could hunt amphibious game whenever he wanted.

John wanted that kind of life: by his own rules. As crazy as it sounded at the time, John wanted to build his own Transformer and use it as a means to stop terrorist threats around the world. Even as this story was told, Reilly still couldn't believe John "pulled it off". The singularity completely changed the way of life as well as his thinking. He became obsessed.

Word spread in the gaming community that major companies like Sony Entertainment and Microsoft wanted to offer asylum to anyone deeply affected by the blast. However, in typical console war fashion, both companies went at each other like Tasmanians fighting over the last chicken leg. Carrie interjected, saying a third party was currently taking up arms against Microsoft by forming a "haven" three hundred miles south of a coastline named the Aegean Line. "Far as we know, that was the last post the Captain was stationed at." Reilly said.

Scott: Do y'all know where John's at this very moment?

Marie: You're not thinkin'…

Scott: This man's like a brother to me. We've had our shits and giggles over Facebook. He's a good guy. I can reason with him.

Reilly: And what makes you think we'll just let you go to SC or God knows where?

Scott: Wanna know why I'm alive? I can't give you an answer. So I'll just give you an observation. I'm an average Joe, I'm not quick on my feet, sure as hell ain't no hero, and I woke up in what sounds like a crazy world that is both fuckin' awesome and scary at the same damn time. Y'all don't have the slightest inkling how blessed I am to see my family safe here, but being "safe" don't cut it. We have freaking _lightsabers_ for crying out loud! The point is… it's time I stop gorging on empty feelings with pie and kick my shit into high gear.

Liz: There he is!

Carrie: Scott has a point. In the old world, we were slaves to our daily programming. It's time we start living again.

Liz: Damn straight! The world's dangerous and so are we. Golds know how to take scrutiny without breakin' down. Who's up for a road trip?

Scott: Mama…?

To Marie, it would have been easier to just go with the flow. A family that gets screwed over together brings a hammer to even the score. In this moment, her Gold clan saw an opportunity to bring said hammer back into the new world to let the Valkyries know they were done living in seclusion. A number of scenarios ran through her mind, becoming filled with a dark cloud of the same conclusion: death. Working on Holly all this time only to see her youngest son come back to life didn't grant her the privilege of making dangerous decisions.

Marie felt like she was going to throw her sandwich at first, but her feet did the thinking for her by helping her back down into the basement, under the illusion her family wasn't going to die out there. She left the living room cold and concerned; everyone but her was on board for the trip to New City Church. Scott on the other hand needed to convince her to come along. He hated the way he had to break out of his shell for these situations. Usually the mediator of the Golds was a godsend where he could just toss his two cents and observe the rest of the way.

The living room smelled of Arby's and an overwhelming sense of judging eyes steering his way. Scott knew sooner or later he'd have to get off the couch and snap her out of her fear; Reilly made a suggestion.

Reilly: When's the sermon gonna start?

Scott: She didn't say.

Liz: Who's "she"?

Reilly: Who the hell were you talking to before I found you on that side of the street?

Scott: It was a young girl, pre-teen I think. But she seemed a lil' mature for her age.

Liz: Normally, I'd backhand you for talkin' to little people but I know you're not capable.

Scott: Capable of what…?

Reilly: *puts his right hand on his forehead* Lord, help us.

Liz: I watch way too much news. Call it a character flaw.

Scott: Oh, you are _not_ sayin' what I think you are. Fuck's sake Liz, why would shit like that even enter your mind?

Liz: Brother, it's been a long day. On the ride back here, I saw…*stands up* I'm feelin' a little dizzy; think I'll shuteye before the sermon.

Scott: Lizzy. *Liz walks away from the living room and goes upstairs* Well that escalated quickly. *to Carrie* Is my sis gonna be alright?

Reilly: A lot of messed up shit kept hitting us since Dallas. Lizzy took the worst of it.

Carrie: The singularity blast caused some of the most abnormal stuff I've ever seen. If Rye hadn't come when he did… we've all done our best to keep mama Gold at ease.

Reilly: Scotty, there's no shame in sitting this church thing out. We can discuss this later on.

New world or not, Scott couldn't bear to listen to what Reilly was saying about hiding. "Did the singularity make him a pussy, too?" He pondered. It was like he was speaking to a clone of his brother and his sister of all people. Their past selves would never pass up an opportunity to get some interesting answers on what they didn't understand. Another part of Scott wanted him to drive back to Texas to see how much has changed and what a rogue band of Derby players had to do with the blood and gore aspect.

He kept an open mind on a number of possibilities as he juggled them going back down to the basement. From hypothesizing living a detailed nightmare to accepting he did in fact die from tiramisu poisoning from Roland, why was he still breathing like a living being? Walking into mama's workshop she kept Holly under an old, blue tarp and tools tucked away in wooden drawers. Scott's memories were still intact as well, wondering if the dead still keep their memories of their past lives. The last time Scott received the silent treatment was way back in the day, towards the end of his middle school career.

Although he retained his chubby exterior back then, he had strong bones in his arms. To this day, he can still arm wrestle anyone who had a bone to pick with him. At one point, he had this fruitful idea of making it his own sport, turning it into a competition and make some good money off it. There was however, one person he could never strong arm in any season. Her back was turned to him.

Marie: Sorry I walked off like that.

Scott: Dallas… I know you don't want to talk about it.

Marie: Five years nowadays is like a three hour nap. Your whole view changes and you change with it. *turns to him* This New City Church sounds like a good place to start for you.

Scott: Seems like the safest option. Maybe I'll light a few candles for our friends back home.

Marie: That'd be nice. I can't force you to stay here, Scott. Eventually, we're gonna have to move on ourselves. All I ask is look out for yourself. Your brother's seen those Valkyries up close. Hell, he fought one off just to get to Carrie.

Scott: Bad ass. Y'all know your next destination?

Marie: Captain Vaughn's got some extra space on his boat. How your sister and I will fare is a different story.

Scott: *chuckles* Six Flags Hurricane Harbor.

Marie: Those waterslides, I tell ya… it does something to a person's bowels. Your brother knows the roads pretty well. He can go with you to the Church while we start packing for the Captain's voyage.

Scott: Mom, don't be silly. You're coming with us.

Marie: *puts both hands on his shoulders* I've lost too much time with you, son. I know you can handle yourself, but this is a new world now. Don't let it take you again. *starts wincing when Scott immediately hugs her*

Every minute Scott spent embracing this "new" world and how much his family has changed, how he can handle himself didn't mean zip to him. Mama Gold didn't call him out on it like she used to, but his heart felt like a dodgeball hitting someone's face. Dead or otherwise, Scott knew he had to be ready for the challenges ahead, no matter how awesome or deadly they were going to be. He helped her lift Holly off the work bench and carried it upstairs into the living room while she announced to the others with a heavy conscience that the time to finally move from the condo was now. Previously, Reilly had a plan to move up north towards West Virginia, claiming it was one of the few states that was least affected by the singularity.

The family meeting debated on different locations to go to. With Reilly wanting to go up north, Liz spoke of a Valkyrie sighting in Lexington, Kentucky. Mama explained that Captain Vaughn's boat was the best option since the Aegean Line had some of the saltiest waters imaginable. "No Houston born hussy could best it." She threw in. The air would be thick and you have to be a scholar of the seas to adapt to it. Since none of the Golds had the lungs for that kind of harsh environment, the debate then shifted towards the Carolina states; John Zilla's home ground.

Scott stood in the background with a bearded smile on his face. He was thankful that if there was one thing that hasn't changed his family was their ability to argue something serious to ending up agreeing on a closing statement regardless who spoke of it. He left the room and walked through a door to the garage where Reilly's truck was in all its dented glory. However, there was more to it than that. Scott wasn't afraid to weave two parallel lines together when he saw the damage to the bumper; Dallas was a frigid bitch with more than a few harsh words to boot.

Strands of hair stuck out in cracks of the truck; scratches and broken glass on the backseats. And even with all this time inspecting damage he didn't notice the first time, where was his cruiser? The garage door opened while Scott kept examining the gravity of the situation.

Scott: Valkyries do this to your truck?

Reilly: What they did to flesh was even worse. I was never much of a roller derby fan, but on a good day they can be violent without realizin'. Soon as I made that sharp turn, they were literally on my ass.

Scott: I knew someone who was a beast in the sport.

Reilly: Triple-Threat. I caught a glimpse of her hacking n slashing the living hell out of some runners. They had two kids with 'em. Fuck, I should've saved a few.

Scott: Don't do that to yourself. Liz, mama and your wife are alive because of you.

Reilly: You too.

Scott: Yeah… well… where's your Excelsior Cruiser?

Reilly: It got destroyed during the attack. That bike got me outta more police chases than I can count. Mama feels I should go with you to New City Church back in Macon.

Scott: It'll be a good first step in really understanding what's goin' on.

Reilly: Then we better get a move on. The sun goes down faster than usual these days. It's like daylight savings time takin' an indefinite vacation.

Scott: What about the others?

Reilly: I left directions on how to get to DC. *Both climb into the truck* Carrie's old man has a place there. They'll be safe 'till _we_ get there.

Scott: On the road again, my brother. Let's get baptized.

The Gold Brothers ventured away from the condo in the hopes of grasping the bigger picture on today's disjointed society. Scott sat back as Reilly took out his GPA to map out the route to New City Church and whatever lies beyond. Two miles and four potholes later, that was when the sharp pain in his lower abdomen resurfaced, creating a mild discomfort and causing some leg fatigue just sitting down. He tried his best to keep his condition under wraps, but something felt different this time. Before, he was choking and clinging onto life; now he was struggling to stay awake. It was that detaching feeling between body and soul, those precious twenty seconds praying he was going to wake up in time to meet the preacher Allie mentioned. Only time will tell.

13


End file.
